Comfort
by Remo Con
Summary: Gandalf sits outside on the night of Aragorn's coronation, musing his fate when he encounters both of the late Steward's sons...vaguely implied BoromirFaramir


**Disclaimer: Wait a minute, you mean to tell me you've seen J. R. R. Tolkien alive and walking around here? No? Then why on middle earth would you think that the owner of Lord of the Rings was the one who wrote this story?**

_Comfort_

No one needs a wizard in times like these, Gandalf thought as he sat down on a large rock just outside the gates of Minas Tirith. Not with a powerful king and peace lurking about everywhere you look. No, he was just an extra soul on Middle Earth. Gandalf sighed. Perhaps it was time he left.

"Now why would you be thinking like that my good sir?" said a very familiar voice, just to his right. Gandalf turned his head, his eyes widening slightly.

"Boromir?" he whispered.

"None other," replied the ghostly figure. "Though I might hesitate to say in the flesh." The ghost smiled.

"But how? And why?" asked the completely flabbergasted wizard.

"Does the order in how I answer matter greatly to you? That looks like a bit of a no to me," Boromir said, chuckling a bit as he caught the look in Gandalf's eyes. "Well then, I am here because you need me – or at least my counsel. Come now, don't look so surprised. I can be useful when I choose to be."

"I suppose you can," Gandalf said, recalling vividly what he had been told about the circumstances of Boromir's death.

"As to the how, I am not entirely sure as to what transpired to get me here for a time to talk with you," Boromir said truthfully.

"Mysterious are the ways of supreme power," Gandalf said aptly.

"Exactly."

"So," Gandalf said, not seeing the need to waste time. "What is it you have come to counsel me on?"

"Do not leave Middle Earth prematurely, Gandalf," Boromir said quietly. "I know you and I have not always gotten on so well, me being the jealous fool I am. Always so afraid, I was, that one day I'd wake up and find Fara wanted you more than he wanted me.

"But still, I am not so blind now that I would falsely encourage you to leave when you are meant to stay."

"Surely you don't mean forever," Gandalf said, quite horrified at the prospect.

"Nay, not forever. Even the elves now do not have to stay in this ever changing land, so it is certainly not expected of you. But you still have some time left to serve here."

"And for what purpose am I to stay?" Gandalf inquired. "My knowledge of Sauron and of what to do against him is no longer needed, and both Rohan and Gondor have strong kings to lead them. The Shire no longer needs my protection and the elves are all but gone. What service, then, am I left to provide?"

"Comfort," was all the answer Boromir gave before he faded away, back to the great plains of the next world.

"Comfort," Gandalf repeated, snorting. He glanced up at Minas Tirith to find still many lights lit, the celebration of Aragorn's crowning lasting late indeed. Sounds of merriment resounded throughout what had not so long ago been home to misery and fright.

He broke his gaze on the city and stared out at the vast plains before him. Whispers from the wind tickled his beard and hair as the night grew colder and he wrapped his cloak around himself tighter, seeing his breath on the cool night air.

"Gandalf? What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask the same of you, young Faramir," Gandalf replied as the second child of Denethor came to stand where a wisp of his brother had bee not so very long ago.

Faramir shrugged. "I've merely had my fill of partying for the night."

"Have you now," Gandalf said, an eyebrow raised. "There is so much to celebrate, though. Why in such low spirits?"

"I'm just tired," Faramir said, sighing. "Still recovering from my wounds, I guess."

"Wounds of the body, or of the heart?" Gandalf asked, hearing Boromir's voice in his head, _Comfort…_

"Am I that obvious to you, Gandalf?" Faramir asked, his voice breaking slightly. He swallowed hard and his eyes glazed over with tears. "I- I've not had time to grieve properly for Boromir yet, and now father is gone as well…"

"Oh child," Gandalf said softly, standing up and taking the man into his arms. Faramir shook as he released the sorrow he had kept bottled up since he had seen Boromir lying in that boat.

Gandalf stood there, simply holding him, and for Faramir that was all he wanted right now. And Boromir was there, invisible to everyone, smiling as he knew his brother would be all right.

End

**Well, another LOTR one shot done. And not at Sam or Gollum in sight (grins). Oh well, it wasn't supposed to be slash. But if that's what you like (and believe me I'd understand) I suppose you can consider this implied slash. Either way, review, review, REVIEW! Thank you Remo**


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